


It's the sun in your eyes.

by TsukiNiSumu



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Eye Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:55:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsukiNiSumu/pseuds/TsukiNiSumu
Summary: It’s common knowledge that, from the moment you are born, you can see every color except one particular shade: the one of your soulmate’s irises. In its stead you perceive plain grey – lack of color, to be precise – until you see it in their eyes. Nicky spent seventeen years walking on grass of various shades of grey. Matt hated the look of colorless dark chocolate until he met Dan’s wide, fierce eyes. And Andrew? Andrew can't see the sky.***A soulmate au in which you can’t see the particular color of your soulmate’s eyes until you see your soulmate’s eyes. Thus: how Andrew and Neil found out about their soulmate (an introspective analysis, from a more… colorful perspective).
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 28
Kudos: 417





	1. Andrew

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I should be writing my other two wips instead of this~~  
>  The prompt comes from [this tumblr post](https://alecdoesnotmakepie.tumblr.com/post/122116652798/groanlester-au-where-you-have-a-stripe-of-your) — I saw it on my dash and had to _stop_ everything I was doing to write this so... yeah. Credit goes to them.  
> Also I want to thank my lovely beta [loulashes](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/loulashes): _dear S. thank you for the great work you did on this story (and thank you for putting up with me) you're amazing._  
>  Also also! The title comes from Bastille's _Weight of Living Part 1_. It's a great song, check it out if you want!!

Andrew had never seen what, apparently, others called _blue._  
He could see the faint blue of water and had no problems with the various shades of light blue. But stark, pure, electrifying blue he had never seen. To him, the sky was a greyscale of nothingness. To him, those warm and clear California skies, where not a cloud could be seen for miles and the sun shone bright, held instead the promise of yet another gloomy day of darkness and sullenness. And to him, California had been cruel enough on its own — crueler than those colorless, ruthless skies.  
Andrew had never seen the color _blue_ and he probably would never see it in his life. Because the idea of Andrew having a soulmate was bullshit; it was like believing in Santa Claus after the age of six. Like wishing for rain in the desert. The idea of Andrew, of all people, having a soulmate felt like a dumb, sick joke.  
So, Andrew rarely looked at the sky — it held nothing for him. He rarely turned his head upwards, to gaze at the utter nothingness; he didn’t need to do so when he was reminded of it by everything else in his life. He lived in nothingness already, he refused to hold the sky as yet another reminder of the humorless jokes fate had pulled on him. Sometimes though — on really bad days, when apathy chilled even the blood in his veins — he would allow himself to give into the pull of the sky and would climb on top of the roof of Cass Spear’s house to watch the sunrise. Before anyone was awake, before anything — anyone — could get to him, he’d sit on the roof and gaze at the reds and pinks filling the sky.  
The clear day blue mocked him, taunted him, but he could find an ally in the sincere colors of the sunrise —irrefutable and untainted. The morning sunrise was a universal truth; just like death was. They were there —unchangeable, unstoppable. Beginning and end; nothing in between mattered. Andrew didn’t care about anything else; those were the only reminders he needed,.  
Andrew had never seen _blue_ and no one knew about it. When asked, he’d reply that it was dumb, that he saw all the colors, that soulmates were stupid anyway — and, unsurprisingly, no one had ever questioned him. No one had ever called bullshit on him. No one had ever looked enough at him to spot the lie, no one had ever noticed his aversion for the sky. Eventually, people even stopped asking; assuming right away that a _monster_ like him could not have a soulmate.  
Yet, everyone around him seemed to be obsessed with the concept: Nicky would talk at great length about the beauty of the color green; leaves, grass, vegetables. Sometimes, Andrew would even catch him crying at the sight of green apples because, apparently, they reminded him so starkly of Erik. When asked about it, Nicky described the first time seeing _bright green_ (“Not emerald, mind you, not even yellow-green, but bright forest green.”) as an all-encompassing experience, overwhelming and heart shattering. Like the world finally made sense, like every piece of a puzzle had finally fit into place. Or so he claimed, at least.  
On the other hand, Aaron had walked into their shared dorm room one of their first days in Palmetto, eyes wide and hands quivering. Had proceeded to lock himself in the bathroom for hours on end, refusing to speak to Nicky with such vehemence that his cousin had, in turn, locked himself in his room. It hadn’t taken Andrew long to realize that he had, in fact, met his soulmate. Aaron had done everything in his power to hide it and his twin hadn’t asked any questions, only muttered a vicious “Remember our agreement.” and moved on.

The topic of soulmates seemed to be of extreme relevance between the Palmetto Foxes as well. Everyone spoke of it buoyantly: Allison greatly enjoyed betting on other people’s, although fiercely reluctant to talk about her own. Matt and Dan, apparently, had found out they were each other’s soulmate on their first day of practice and absolutely thrived in telling the story to everyone that was unlucky enough to mention the topic of colors and/or soulmates (“Did you _know_ I had never seen the color of dark-chocolate before in my _entire life_? I couldn’t eat snacks without feeling bad, man.”). Renee — alongside Kevin who, admittedly had bigger things on his mind than stop and speculate over color shades and love (“the only color I care for is the red of a goal after I scored”) — was the only one who’d quietly refuse to talk about the topic. Andrew had yet to figure out if she did it out of respect for his blatant distaste for the subject matter, or because she had something to hide.  
Renee had, for a long time, been the biggest conundrum in Andrew’s life. She was open and willing to speak about herself and her past, but no matter what, she always withheld her aura of mystery. Renee had been the only — mildly — interesting matter in Andrew’s life for a long while, until _Neil Josten_ had turned up to Palmetto.  
It hadn’t come as a surprise, in fact, when the new guy’s arrival had sparked yet again a new wave of soulmate-themed conversations. The foxes had begun pestering him with questions the second he had set foot in the Fox Tower. The new striker had frowned and, scratching his head, had refused to answer. That had, of course, sparked even more interest surrounding _who_ was or _could_ be his soulmate. And, as clear as day with the foxes, with speculations came an array of bets. Since then, every so often, one of the foxes would hold up or point to an object with a “Is _this_ your soulmate’s eye color?” completely unyielding to the idea that Neil could be one of the rare cases in which a soulmate doesn’t exist.  
While everyone else was busy with their exciting new interest for the new kid, Andrew was busy trying to actually figure him out. Figure the _real him_ out, not the fake, made-up version that he had been effortlessly feeding his teammates. In a few weeks Neil Josten had already sewn an intricate design of a life that Andrew knew wasn’t his own. Neil Josten, with his lies and secretiveness, was a definite threat for the foxes and Kevin’s safety; on top of that, Neil was also hiding his own eyes from the world. He disguised them carefully underneath plain brown contacts he passed off as his own. Everyone else seemed to be oblivious to it, too enamored with the newcomer to see right through his fraudulent demeanor. Instead, Andrew had noticed it the second he had laid eyes on him — the little reflection on his irises gave him away. Alarm bells blared in Andrew’s mind ever since, because hiding your eyes means to hide your whole being, it’s a shield that few people choose to put up no matter the circumstances, yet Neil Josten seemed adamant on keeping himself as concealed and clandestine as he could manage. Despite all of his dishonesty, Andrew felt intrigued. He felt a newfound purpose in trying to unravel the fabricated skein that was Neil Josten. For the first time in years, Andrew wanted something: he wanted to solve Neil, he wanted to pick him apart and leave his pieces out in the sun. He didn’t care what it would cost to achieve it, he knew he’d eventually do it. He’d eventually break him, find his weak spots and strike; and he wanted to gaze into his real eyes while doing so.

He had tried to unravel and decipher him on many occasions, but Neil Josten was a shifting enigma, he was a rubik’s cube impossible to solve: the second Andrew believed all the tassels were finally in place, he’d turn it around to find one mismatched colored tile. When he believed he had figured him out, Neil did something unexpected to throw off Andrew’s balance. Neil Josten was candid and a liar all at once, he would open up on the most unthinkable matters and stay closed like a seashell on the most futile ones. Andrew had tried to pry him open, had tried to coerce him as well, and all he had obtained had been lies and fables. Andrew had tried to pressure him into taking off his contact lenses through Nicky and had ended up blatantly ignored. He had broken into his room and found things that confirmed his suspicions and had been found out with a velocity that had thrown him off. On the night he first took Neil to Eden’s Twilight as his rite of — let’s see just how dangerous you are and if you’ll survive the night — passage, he had attempted to use wits and intimidation. Instead, he had ended up with a knocked-out Neil with two blueing bruises on both his eye sockets. Right when Neil Josten had begun to look unpliable, inviolable — right when Andrew was beginning to think he’d really have to forcefully pick him apart to figure him out — Neil Josten had decided to open up by himself.

Like an oyster you think will never open, just when you’re ready to chuck it out, Neil Josten began to open himself one stitch at a time. And that was what made Neil Josten even more of an enigma, a human contradiction. He wanted to run away, yet did anything in his power to stay. He wanted to hide himself, yet gave himself away slowly with every small breath and word. He was meant to keep a low profile, go unseen, yet he fought loud and proud to defend the people he knew. Refused to stand back and dodge.  
And, like a hazard and a curse, in his attempt to figure Neil Josten out, the boy had actually begun to figure Andrew out. And Andrew hated it. What had begun as a mutual agreement, a rather passive way to learn truths — a secret for a secret, instead of a punch for a punch — had mutated, built into what looked like a routine, a habit. It had grown right in front of their eyes, had built into a whirlwind of promises and trust. Andrew had been scrambling for purpose and Neil had whispered a request for protection. Their relationship was transactional and honesty was their coin — disbursed in bedrooms, with bleeding knuckles and broken windows. In clubs, with alcohol and drugs as their sole witnesses. In exy courts late at night, sitting on benches under bright overhead lights. Neil made curiosity bubble in Andrew’s mind like few things had in his life; he was intriguing and blighted at the same time, a soother for his tedium and a menace for that same ability.  
Andrew loathed those moments of vulnerability they shared with each other but, almost in a sick way, he couldn’t stop relishing in them. Sometimes, Neil would dangerously test his luck — pushing and prodding in places so dark Andrew himself would regret looking, if he only _believed_ in regret — yet, the boy was also surprisingly good at reading the situation. Neil knew how to back off lithely and skillfully, he’d retrace his steps with an ease that unnerved Andrew.

It was a stimulating back and forth, like a skillful game of chess. Waiting for your opponent to make a move whilst also calculating their further moves. Sometimes, their exchanges were predictable — thus immediately turning boring and insignificant in Andrew’s mind. Some other times, Neil turned out to be somewhat interesting. The two of them were standing outside of the Foxhole Court one night, when Neil initiated one of their games; from the smug look on the striker’s face, Andrew sensed that he would prove himself to be the latter that night. They were sitting on the hood of Andrew’s car, holding a cigarette each. Inside, Kevin Day was busy practicing all on his own, after a rather harrowing fight between the two strikers that had resulted in an annoyed Neil sauntering outside towards Andrew’s car. The two were therefore waiting outside in the fresh nocturnal air, in utter silence, until a smug expression snaked its way onto Neil’s face.  
“What.” Had spat Andrew, his mind a blank slate thanks to the lack of drugs in his system. His hands were beginning to tremble already.  
“I noticed,” a moment of silence in which Neil just waited for whatever sign from Andrew “that you never look at the sky.” a nod towards the multitude of stars shimmering over their heads.  
In an act of apathetic defiance, Andrew slightly turned his head upwards — a small enough movement that someone inattentive wouldn’t be able to catch, but Andrew felt the other boy’s vigilant stare on him.  
“So, it’s only a day thing.”  
“Is there a question in there?” Neil shrugged; his gaze now fixed skyward. Both of them knew a question was coming indeed, Andrew could even hear Neil’s gears working in his head — probably scheming around the many ways he could handle the situation.  
“Why?” it was a simple and innocent question, Andrew knew he could simply get off of his hood and go sit inside his car instead and Neil wouldn’t prod any further. Andrew knew that that’s what he would’ve done with anyone else. He knew that, had that been anyone else, he would’ve already threatened them. But Neil Josten was a menace, he was an annoyance and a discomfort that would persist. So, Andrew flicked his finished cigarette on the ground and grudgingly lit a new one right away.  
“Because,” a drag of smoke “I see _nothing_.”  
Neil frowned, clearly not expecting such a cryptic answer. Andrew didn’t know why he was saying it, maybe it was the weariness from the withdrawals, maybe he just was too bored not to stir up chaos.  
“It’s grey.”  
Slowly, Neil’s face contorted into careful understanding. Andrew waited for the snide comments or for the sheer shock of finding out that Andrew _actually_ had a soulmate somewhere. Instead, Neil just nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer.  
“My turn to play.” said Andrew once his cigarette was over. He felt almost hungry, staring at Neil like a bunch of disorderly puzzle pieces. “Why the contacts — I already know your little runaway sob story so save that excuse.”  
He watched Neil struggle for a couple of heartbeats, but still:  
_A secret for a secret._  
“My mother… she always told me it’s a sign of weakness. The lenses are a last line of defense.” A groan from Andrew at the exy reference, but he kept quiet “She stayed with my father because they were soulmates, made me vow to never let my guard down.”  
And, just like that, another thread had been unraveled.  
Andrew caught sight of a slouched Kevin Day walking their way and sighed. Before he moved off of the hood, though, he made sure to look Neil straight in his eyes before saying “Your mother is dead and you already let your guard down.” He let Neil find meaning in it by himself.

Andrew hated the sky, but once out of Easthaven he let himself quickly flicker his eyes upwards, the grey vastness a reminder that he, at last, was out of there. He stepped away from the building that had hosted his demise — the building that had endorsed the weeks of mental and physical atrocities that he had endured. He stepped away from it, without a backwards glance. With a steady pace, he approached the familiar car he had bought years before — an emblem of his freedom, his first and real possession. To him, that car was defiance and obstinance, a symbol of his promises and commitments.  
He faintly acknowledged the four shadows that followed him outside, into the warming, blinding midday sun. He didn’t need to turn his eyes to _them_ to know they were there; he could feel them, spot them, see them from miles away. He didn’t need to spare them any glances, their mere presence assuring enough. Andrew sturdily fought the instinctive urge to put as many miles between the clinic and his family as he could and cast one, scrutinizing, glance towards Kevin — assessing and analyzing. He took in the bruises on one side of his face, bright and fresh enough to be recent. Took in his trembling lips and his worried eyes, constantly flicking back towards a mass of red hair Andrew didn’t have time nor resolve to acknowledge just yet. Instead, he put all of his strength into willing himself inside the driver seat and focused on leaving Easthaven behind for good. Minutes later, they were riding at full speed down Columbia’s roads, the radio blaring music loudly – so he wouldn’t have to listen to Nicky’s sad attempts at conversation. It was all a blur after that: the drive back and Nicky’s summary of what he had missed were barely stimulating (or noteworthy, even) enough to hold his interest for long. Instead, his mind drifted to several different places, his eyes focused on familiar shadow of Fox Tower, on the parked cars around him and, unnervingly, on a particular shade of red — warm like those California sunrises and unruly like the boy who now donned them.  
“You’re done?” he finally got to ask, once Nicky closed his mouth for good. His cousin nodded, hesitation and fear clear in his demeanor. “Then go. Tell Josten we need to talk.”  
Nicky scurried away almost instantly, in a way that Andrew would’ve found cruelly amusing, had he still been on his drugs. But Andrew wasn’t anymore — days of agony, torture and pain made sure of that — so he simply stared at the silhouette of his running cousin, feeling absolutely nothing.

Ever since they had left Easthaven, Andrew had made it a point not to look at Neil Josten. He had caught sight of his now-auburn hair because they were impossible to miss and had spotted the white gauzes covering part of his face out of the corners of his eyes. Other than that, Andrew had refused to look at Neil Josten, because he had already been enough of a menace to his then-fogged brain. With his sharp tongue and nosy attitude, he had gotten through the drug-induced wall that had been built in his psyche. He had managed to catch his interest, to still his volatile and hectic mind. And Andrew had no intention to discover what it would feel like to have Neil Josten pick him apart without the barrier that had previously served as a shield. He was adamant on keeping his resolute and unyielding restraint in check.  
He managed it quite well in the time it took him to collect the now-redhead boy and wordlessly climb the flight of stairs to the roof; Andrew could feel Neil following him without any complaint or question, his mere presence somewhat of a familiar relief. There was no doubt that Andrew had missed the roof’s peace and quiet — had missed the chance to taste his privacy whenever he wanted or needed. And, even after more than a month, his customary procedure fell perfectly in place: walk to the edge of the roof, survey the campus, feel the thrill of the height, cigarette. It was almost like an automated, pavlovian response; his feet following through the motions without him having to think about it. Except, this time there was a disruption to his own establishment, an expecting, mouthy disruption. That Andrew had willingly let into his own, private haven. That Andrew had willingly shared and traded secrets with. As yet another disruption to his own, personal routine, Andrew fished his cigarette packet out of his pocket and shook two cigarettes — instead of the lonesome one he would’ve taken out had he been on his own.  
Finally, he let himself turn away from the four-story drop awaiting him and he offered Neil his cigarette.  
“I’ll take an explanation now.”  
Andrew finally raised his gaze to meet Neil’s battered face, the stark color of his eyes dazzling enough to halt any thought in his mind. Neil’s real, shattering eyes were staring back at him — hurt, damaged, confused. Truthful.  
A daunting feeling crept over him as he analyzed those irises, careful not to shift his gaze anywhere else but those eyes; they were filled with a hue that Andrew had never quite seen before. An electrifying shade of blue he had never come across before. The light blue he had always known and seen held nothing in comparison to it. Oceans paled in the face of those stark, real, candid irises.  
A daunting feeling crept over him as he still refused to shift his gaze — somehow, he could sense that something had changed around him. A delicate, quick shift in the universe; a minor, trivial star dying light-years away in a corner of the universe. An insignificant alteration to the cosmos, yet weighty enough to impact _him_ , Andrew Minyard — the unmovable, impervious Andrew Minyard. A change weighty enough to make him stutter on his feet, make him vacillate. He ignored the electric-shock waves filling his body and tried with all his might to reel himself away from that sinking feeling and towards what he knew best, apathy. He welcomed the anger and annoyance that came with finding out the truth of just _what_ Neil had done during winter break. He welcomed the way they fought back and forth, Neil’s utter stupidity enough of a distraction from the luring blue right before him. Andrew did everything he could to fight it — focused on the newly tattooed 4 he had just uncovered on Neil’s cheek, focused on his stupidity, focused on his promises and on the familiar words coming from Neil’s mouth: _deal_ , _Evermore_ , _Riko_ , and then, stark, electrifying and unforeseen just like Neil’s eyes, _Dr. Proust_.  
And Andrew’s resolve shatters, his apathy falters.  
His hands shot to Neil’s mouth before his brain could even fully comprehend the implication or the extent of what Neil just said; truthfully, Andrew didn’t even want to know about them anyway. He didn’t care about implications, didn’t care about reasons, Andrew just didn’t care. He waited just enough time to make sure Neil would take the hint and, in the meantime, indulged in that newfound blue.  
When he finally lowered his hand, he reprimanded Neil with a “Do not make the mistake of thinking I need your protection.”  
Andrew hated him, hated his unpredictability and stubbornness. He hated his overconfidence and his need to assume what Andrew wanted or needed. Andrew hadn’t asked for him. Hadn’t asked for his protection, hadn’t asked for his attention. He had only asked for — pretended to receive, really — the truth about Neil’s identity, and instead had gotten secrets shared for the sake of sharing them. Had gotten someone willing to listen to him, to really listen to what he was saying.  
“You spend all this time watching our backs, who’s watching yours? Don’t say you are because you and I both know you take shit care of yourself.”  
Andrew had gotten trust and understanding when he had never asked for it.  
“Next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?”  
Neil’s eyes were determined, sparkling in the same way they did on the court. Purposeful, resolute, ready to strike at a goal. There was no stopping _that_ Neil. “If it means losing you then no.”  
Andrew hadn’t asked for it, yet, he had gotten warm reds and deep blues and he _hated_ it.  
“You were supposed to be a side-effect of the drugs.” Despite the fact that not even the medicine-induced haziness had been able to withstand Neil’s purposeful forays.  
“I’m not a hallucination.”  
“You’re a pipe dream. Go inside and leave me alone.” Andrew was done talking, he was ready to put that conversation behind. Finally, Andrew averted his gaze from Neil’s irises.

When asked about his soulmate, _Nicky_ described the first time seeing green as an all-encompassing experience, overwhelming and heart shattering. Like the world finally made sense, like every piece of a puzzle had finally fit into place. Yet, as Andrew caught sight of his first ever blue sky, he didn’t exactly feel the overwhelming, heart shattering experience his cousin had been gushing about. Instead, Andrew briefly allowed himself the chance to contemplate the vast expanse above him — of a clear, candid blue; plain and dazzling at the same time.  
Andrew also remembered the day in which _Aaron_ had walked into their shared dorm room one of their first days in Palmetto, eyes wide and hands quivering. Remembered the shock apparent on his face. Yet, as Andrew took it all in, he simply felt acceptance; there was no shock for what he was witnessing. Neil’s eyes had been surprising, a secret uncovered for everyone to see — a universal truth, loud, unclouded, unmistakable — and the sky above them simply couldn’t compare.  
“You still have my keys.” Reminded him Neil and, ultimately, Andrew looked away from the sky. In a matter of heartbeats, he threw his cigarette off of the side of the building and he watched as it made its descent onto the grey concrete — now in blatant contrast with the blue overhead. Neil’s set of keys followed the cigarette a second later, thrown in a perfect arc. He listened as the redhead scrambled inside to retrieve them and Andrew welcomed the silence with a sigh.  
If the idea of Andrew, of all people, having a soulmate felt like a dumb, sick joke. The idea of Neil, of all people, being his soulmate felt even more like a dumb, sick joke. A stunt that the universe had, apparently, enjoyed pulling on him. The universe was probably having a laugh as Andrew surveyed once again the sky, nose turned upwards and eyes squinting at the blinding sun. Its brightness now all-the-more unbearable and endurable at the same time. Andrew had never seen the sun up in the middle of the sky, he had seen its origin at _sunrise_ , with its reds and pinks of an early California sky. Had seen its _death_ at nighttime, black and merciful. And, now, Andrew was seeing that something in between that he had never believed in: a _menace_ , a _runaway_ , a _liar_ ; with its sharp blues and truths.

As Andrew’s gaze shifted on the road below, he caught sight of Neil staring right back at him, his discarded cigarette between his lips. And, truthfully, Neil Josten looked even more like a menace, standing right underneath a stark blue sky.


	2. Bonus: Neil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank _you_ so much for all the kudos and comments, I literally cried my eyes out for all the love this story got. Thank you so so much, from the bottom of my heart.  
> And to my lovely _beta[loulashes](https://loulashes.tumblr.com/)_: thank you for you work, I'll always be grateful for you (I randomly added a couple of unedited sentences pls don’t kill me).
> 
> Finally, I would like to thank my lifesaver, my lifeline, my safety-net. Without you, I’d still be crying over line n.1 one. _Context Reverso_ , you truly are a blessing. Sincerely yours, a poor multilingual writer.

_**Bonus:** _

Huddled on his dorm room’s couch, with his Foxes all around him, is where Neil felt most safe. In fact, he had never felt safer than with his friends surrounding him — warm and kind, yet protecting and ferocious if need be. Neil couldn’t recall ever feeling that safe, not when he was a kid and he couldn’t yet quite grasp the dynamics of his “family”, nor when he slept with his mother — his body hidden by hers and his hand wrapped around a gun hidden under pillows. No words, nor weapons or promises had ever made him feel the kind of warmth his _family_ could.   
Huddled on his dorm room’s couch, with his Foxes fawning over him — making sure he’s okay, making sure he’s not hurting too badly — is where Neil felt at home. He couldn’t stop looking at them with disbelief and affection in his eyes; the sharp words of his friends fighting for him back in Baltimore still ringing in his ears. After all the horrors he had been through, he had seen them fight for him in a way that no one ever had. Not even his mother. She would’ve done it out of duty and survival, she would’ve done it out of sense of obligation. Yet, despite the fact that the kids surrounding him held no obligation to him, they had battled for him with a fierce stubbornness he had never witnessed. They had held tight to him, despite his lies and deceptions. Their affection had been uncovered bare in a grimy hotel room and their bonds were shaped like words — desperate, yet laced with devotion; tempestuous, yet tender. Their bonds were shaped like “ _you can’t have him. He belongs with us_ ” and “ _bring Neil back to us_ ” and, the strongest, most vivid one “ _I don’t trust them to give you back_ ”. If Neil closed his eyes, that’s what would come to him — not the horrors he had witnessed, not the screams that he himself had produced, but that hotel room that had been grazed by voices of those who had fought for him and won. Their voices still hovered in the air, a reminder that their relationship, although not held together by deals or blood-related ties, had been the strongest one. A survivor, just like all of them.

So, days after his worst nightmare came true, Neil felt safe. Relieved, even. He wouldn’t look at his family and saw a countdown over their faces anymore. Taking in his surroundings — his familiar, soothing dorm room, the first place he had been able to call home — didn’t feel like a breach in his chest anymore. The mess of covers and pillows still lying in the middle of the living-room, after their impromptu slumber party. The tv playing an old Disney movie that Matt insisted they watch, even though no one was particularly paying attention. Andrew sitting at his side, not so close that they could touch, but close enough to feel his warmth. And his friends all scattered around the room: careful not to leave his sight and careful not to have Neil leave theirs. It all spelled _permanency_ instead of _transience_.

However, in spite of his newfound peace of mind, his body still felt uncomfortable, aching and sore despite the exorbitant amount of pain medications in his system. He felt bruised, battered and out of sorts. His face stung where the tender skin met the gauzes, his hands were bloody and skinned, making moving his fingers pure torture. Not to mention the painful rawness in his throat, curtesy of the hours spent screaming and begging his captors — before his vocal cords had given out, that is. In his life, Neil had been maltreated to hell and back, he had been skinned, burnt, shot even. He had been abused by a merciless Riko and withstood it valiantly. Many months before, he had boasted to Andrew that _he couldn’t_ , in fact, _be broken_. Yet his father had been on the brink of achieving exactly that. It had been a nightmare come to life, and his body bore the unparalleled marks of it.  
He didn’t realize he made his discomfort so noticeable until Renee, with her gentle smile and nurturing soul, stood up from her spot on the pillowy floor “Why don’t you let me make you some lemon and honey tea, Neil?”  
At the sight of his scrunched up face at the mention of one particular ingredient, Matt huffed out a laugh “Ever heard of honey, Neil? It’s that thing that soothes your throat and tastes like candy.”  
“I _know_ what honey is, it just looks disgusting.” Renee’s smile turned amused, but that didn’t stop her from letting them know that she’d make a cup for herself either way — and Neil could taste it and decide for himself. She was out of the room in a few seconds, but the Foxes’ attention was still planted on Neil.  
“How dare you say it looks disgusting.” Despite Allison’s shocked tone, as if Neil disliking honey was a crime against her own being, she was smiling amusedly as well.  
“It looks gross and off-putting.”  
“What did honey ever do to you, Neil.” Nicky had joined the upperclassmen in their amazement, much to Aaron’s annoyance. Neil could perfectly see in his stance that he was a couple conversations away from leaving — noticing the faint similarities between the two twins was somewhat amusing: when annoyed both their faces pulled taut, only an imperceptibly raised eyebrow giving them away.  
“It literally looks like mold.” Talking hurt his throat even more, but the Foxes seemed adamant on figuring the issue out, some of them — Allison, mainly — sporting mischievous looks. So, meeting everyone’s curious eyes, he continued “Like grey mold, but liquid?”  
This time it was Dan’s turn to intercede “ _Grey?_ Neil, what kind of honey did they feed you.” Neil sensed Andrew tensing slightly next to him. But before Neil could turn around to check on him, though, Renee had waltzed back into the room — her arms full with jars and tea bags.  
Allison immediately jumped up to help her and Neil saw the wholesome smiles the two shared. Matt was up with them, excitedly grabbing a jar from Renee’s hand and shoving it in front of Neil’s eyes “What color is this, Neil?” The redhead blinked a few seconds, fazed by the sudden question. The entire ordeal felt like a déjà vu Neil couldn’t _quite_ pinpoint.  
He stared at the golden liquid for a while, words failing him. He could’ve sworn that, years before—  
 _Huh_ , Neil thought, mind drifting back to the Christmas Market he had once witnessed in Germany. He perfectly recalled his mother’s body pressed against him as they waddled through the cheerful crowds; perfectly recalled the ominous look of one of the last booths, jars upon jars of grey goop stacked upon one another. He perfectly recalled the name of the stall, recalled the stylized bees on the side of the banners. Back then, the entire booth had been a hollow eyesore — its dullness and misery clashing with colorful, celebratory Christmas booths placed next to it. Back then, that exact booth had resonated with him — a perfect mirror of his own feelings, a perfect mirror of the _darkness_ , the _sullenness_ he felt inside of himself.  
Yet, the liquid right in front of his eyes looked like — “ _Uh_ … Hazel? Amber? I don’t know.” Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Aaron faintly perking up. “I haven’t seen honey in so long, I probably remembered incorrectly…”  
That seemed to deflate everyone’s spirits, Matt stepping away from the couch with a scoff, leaving Neil to contemplate his own memories alone, almost getting lost in them. He was letting them consume him — the feeling of the crowd around him, a bulletproof vest pressing on his chest, his mother’s fingernails digging in his arms — when Andrew’s hand pressing on his neck brought him back to the present, his free hand offering him a cup of tea. Andrew was there, a grounding and sustaining force — he had been just that ever since a key had been placed in Neil’s hand, ever since _stay_ had sank into Neil’s bones. Andrew, _weighty_ and _impactful_ , impervious and _unmovable_. A still force in the everchanging cosmos. Andrew’s touch too, spelled — shouted, even — _permanency_ instead of _transience_. It was a reminder of Neil’s _choice_ and _promise_ to stay.

They locked eyes; blue into hazel ones — warm and golden, just like melted honey — and inside those, Neil noticed something new, a spark he had never seen. It was something he couldn’t quite place — surely important enough to light a match in his irises, but not enough to set them on fire — still, Neil knew too well to blindly inquire. So, he drank what he had been offered without any complaint, even when he tasted the sickly, sweetened taste of honey tea on his tongue.   
But one day, he’d ask him about it — they now had infinite time, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _All of you: oh, I wonder how Neil found out  
>  Me, a galaxy brain: Neil is a himbo and is completely oblivious_
> 
> Soooooo, I hope this wasn’t too disappointing? This is what I meant with _bonus_ chapter: it’s not really a prompt-conforming analysis and I hope you still appreciated it. I know I don’t owe any explanation but the way I see it is: first time Neil looked into Andrew’s eyes is when he got slam dunked with an exy racquet — BUT this kid is completely oblivious, plus he’s had a very particular upbringing so I doubt that soulmates would be at the top of the list of things to think about. It’s a nice mirror to Andrew’s story — he had no choice but to be _constantly_ confronted with it every day of his life.  
> Plus, I quite like the idea of Neil just being utterly in “love” (or whatever these two think they have) without even realizing it. And being able to come to terms with whatever (love, it's love) these two share on his own, unhindered, is something I wanted to leave to his character (I mean, c'mon, he freaked out about a pair of keys; imagine the mental breakdown over soulmates — he will eventually have it, but that will be many years down the line).  
> Lastly!! I put a couple of references to my previous chapter because I’m a sappy and poetic bitch, see if you can spot the (three-ish) moments in which Andrew’s thoughts mirror Neil’s (I mean, they do it already with their own words in canon so I thought what the heck these guys are soulmates for a reason). If you get all of them right you get ~~nothing because I don’t have anything to offer you other than my love and gratitude for putting up with me and my writing~~ a prize!  
>   
> And lastly, if you've gotten this far: I was thinking of extending this series to other foxes, maybe Dan and Matt? or Allison and Renee? or something like this, so if you'd be interested let me know!   
> In the meantime, check out my other works!  
> Thank you so so much again.  
> With lots of love,  
> Nicole ♡♡♡♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> To anyone who has come this far: thank you!! I hope you enjoyed it, I hope I was able to leave you with _something ~~special.~~  
>  If, by any chance, you liked my writing then I'll link you to my other two wips (the ones I've been neglecting in order to write this...): a [dark academia themed au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21786346/chapters/51985759) (darker and more introspective, like this story) and a [figure skating au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21965365/chapters/52415293) (super light and sweet)  
>  Also, follow me on [tumblr](https://nattsunoyume.tumblr.com/)! Let's be friends!!  
>  Again, thank you so much!  
> _


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